Put On a Show
by Punzie the Platypus
Summary: Modern-day AU. Elsa is representing Arendelle in the Winter Olympics at the North Pole. While controlling her ice powers so she doesn't get disqualified from the ice-skating events, she struggles to hide them from her ever-adoring sister Anna, who's captivated by a charming competitor of Elsa's named Hans; Kristoff, the guy who keeps the ice rink; and an icy competitor—Jack Frost.
1. Much Ice, So Wow

_**Soli Deo gloria**_

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Frozen. So this is an obvious AU (modern day), and it's basically about Elsa being in the Olympics. This is gonna sound bad, but I only watched one event in the Winter Olympics, as I was forced to watch it (however, it was the couples figure skating, so all was beautiful and amazing. Much nice. So wow): So I don't know the procedures about who and how anyone gets in the actual Olympics. This is basically my rendition of it. Please forgive my mistakes! :)**

**This story is going to be in two different points of view: Elsa's and Anna's.**

**~ Elsa's point of view~**

My hands begin to shake. They quiver in front of me, ready to erupt like a volcano. I stare at them, pleading, begging them to _stop_. Then I clutch them to my chest, close to my patterned bodice. They shake so hard. My entire body is nervous. I will it to not be. I will control myself.

I close my eyes, breathe deeply. _Not now. Not now._ I will not allow my body to betray me. Now is the time to have full control of it. Now is my time to shine, and it is the only time that matters. After hours of practice, of trying to control my frightful abnormality, I just have to conceal it now. _Just this once,_ I beg.

In my ears, I hear the cries of the crowd around me. The audience everywhere, their eyes all on me, watching, waiting. They will see every slip and every flaw, every daring dive and every sweep of my legs. They will see my mistakes; they can see me. And I can't let them. I won't let them. I only pay attention to the voices that matter: I hear the screams, and I ignore them, but I hear the shouts of those calling my name. I hear my younger sister, Anna, calling my name excitedly. I smile a little. My biggest fan. She always has faith in me.

The music will start soon, announcing the start to my tryout. I open my eyes to see my hands slowly trembling. I look up from them to see my family behind the stands of the ice rink. They believe in me. They know how achingly I've worked. My practice will pay off; I win this trial, and I will enter the Olympics.

I see Anna behind the glass. Her dark orange braids wave in the air as she shrieks, her hands holding high above her head a sign saying "GO ELSA!" Her smile is infectious; I smile at her. She notices and calls my name encouragingly louder and louder.

Next to her is my reserved mother. Her hair pulled back, her hands calmly clasped in front of her, she is everything I model myself after. If only I could be like her. She is stern but smiling. A firm, kindly mother. I smile.

Then my eyes shift to my father, searching his face for an answer. His face is grim, his lips pulled into a frown. He wears jeans and a sweater, with a whistle hung around his neck. My coach. He has watched every step of my practicing on thin ice. He and my mother are the only ones who know of my ice powers, of how they are fast approaching uncontrollable. I'm not wearing gloves now; the dress code doesn't have them. I remember the words he said last night as they pound against my head, beat against my heart. Last night he argued with my mother behind closed doors about my powers; how one slip can damn my chances for even making it in. Anna and I had listened against the door in the dark in our pajamas and bathrobes. She sat against the wood and leaned her ear against the knob; Anna loves listening at doors. I stood tall and pressed my ear against the door. Then I stood back. I could hear them clearly, they were so loud. For all our effort, they still doubted my capabilities. I still doubt them.

To have Father's confidence in me diminished slowly kills my own self-confidence. If I am the only one who believes in myself, what is that worth?

He nods slowly; he knows I am ready; my smile drops from my lips. I set them into a firm line and turn away.

My feet glide on the ice as the words from the announcer fall silently on my ears. Unlike my hands, my legs are totally in my control. What I command, what I will them to do, they will do. My hands betray me, but my legs obey me. I grip my fingers into my palms as I finish a lap around the cloudy, cut ice, and I look up. I wait. My fingers dig deep and cut. It hurts, the pain, but the pain of having worked so hard and then having all my work for naught cuts deeper.

I stand up straight, balanced on my cutting edge skates. Then I hear the music being played; it's light and soft, gentle and kind, telling a story of spring in full bloom and sun, with beautiful flowers dancing gently in the bend of the wind. I whip off and become an ice cold flower. I bend and I bow; but I cut, cold and sharp. I bow and I dance, twirl at least three times. All is silent, gone, except for me and my music and my ice. I smirk to myself as I laugh; I cut and dare to dive; I catch myself from falling, and burst up out of my shell. I am in full bloom, cold and beautiful, stretching and bending softly like a stem, but threatening and dangerous, like a thorn. My hands spread out, my palms facing the air. My arms stretch up high above me as I balance on a single leg, gliding on the ice. I close my eyes, my back as an angle, almost as straight as a board. I am parallel to the ice below me. I am gone in a state of being gone, gone far away from what I am. Then I smile softly. I open my eyes, and I bend myself forward, my other leg meeting the ice, the crystal, the glass, beneath me. My arms aren't tired but on fire. My hands shake as on their own; I cannot do more than will them to stay as they are. They beg to fire out shards of precious ice; but I glide to a stop with my fingers bent delicately, my arms still so high they beg for praise from the bystanders. And applause do I receive.

I bring my arms down and bow, my arms cast to my sides. Then I stand up straight and pause a second to glance at my hands, my teeth biting into my purple lips as I realize the sudden etches of crystal snowflakes against my skin. My hands are formed into fists as I draw them close to my chest, to hide them from prying eyes. I look up to see the roaring crowds but all I see is my father hurrying through the stands towards the entrance of the ice rink.

I smile as I swiftly skate to the entrance; nobody knows but me and him. Keep the show going, for they know none the better. Nobody needs to know.

My father's head bends down towards mine so it looks like he is congratulating me; but the reality is that he is slipping gloves over my trembling hands. I keep my eyes down, concentrating on the problem at hand. But I ache inside; how foolish of me to think that for one moment I could forget. No. I can only pray that no one saw. I feel ashamed, too, presenting myself to my father so helpless and still so far from where we should be. After all those hours of practicing, I risked our hardwork, our time, for a moment of thrills. Of not caring.

I only look up when the last glove is over my pale skin. I meet my father's brown eyes; they are not grim, but smiling in pride.

"Nobody could have see. Your performance was perfect. But you have to be more careful, Elsa," Father admonishes.

I nod. He pats my hands and turns so my mother can come forward. She has a small smile on her face. She cups my hands in her hands, surrounding mine with hers. Protecting them. "You couldn't have done better, Elsa," she says kindly.

I breathe deeply. _Appreciation. Hope_ that, despite my abnormality, I can still perform. I beam at her, whisper a meek "Thank you."

Then Anna comes running to me down the stairs, two at a time. Her sign in her hand still, she says, beaming at me, "I knew you could do it. Never doubted you for a second, Elsa."

I smile warmly at her. "Thank you, Anna."

Anna smiles broadly and hugs me very, very close. I feel her handmade, homemade sign at my side, cheering me on even now. For as aloft as I am, for all the time I spend away from my kind, thoughtful little sister, she still thinks the world of me. I don't know why. I wouldn't. But she holds out for me still, always waiting for the time to be able to make me see that I'm not half as bad as I am. Of course, Anna is ignorant to my powers. Sometimes I think her ignorance is bliss. Not true bliss, but true enough. I am cold and stoic. I rarely say anything. Anna is infectious, shining as bright as the sun. We are polar opposites. Would she be so lively, so childlike and hopeful, if she knew of the burden I carry? If she knew that I have a power so dangerous that it can hurt people, kill people, even her? I hold her tighter now as I think of it. My parents are always wary about our touching. My trying to restrain the urge to let the ice fall and overwhelm my better sense has gone astray; it does no good, trying to be good. I try so hard so I can protect my little sister so I don't hurt her; she loves me so much, and I can hurt her. I know that and I bear that thought, that worry, in the forefront of my mind every day. She remains unaware. Oh, Anna. I stroke her hair and feel tears at the back of my eyes. Why am I so burdened?

Then Anna thrusts me from her and says, "Elsa, Elsa, they are going to announce your scores. We're going to find out if you make it through to the Olympics!"

We clutch hands together as we roughly turn to see the judges. They hold up their telling signs, their white boards with dark numbers telling me if I have executed well enough or if I shall be ashamed for the rest of my life.

An 8; a 9; a 7.5; an 8.5; a 9. 42 by five judges—an 8.4. I am jumped up the scoreboard; I watch Anna's face light up, her eyes widening in astonishment, as I am on the top. She turns to me and says, "Elsa, you did it! You won! You're going to the Olympics!"

I smile a little, indeed glad about my performance, about my performances to come. Then I feel my hands in hers and realize how they ache. They want to splurge, ignore my righter judgment and spill, bleed ice out of my hands and _create_. Make beautiful, strong, shining, dangerous creations. I realize then—how can I control myself? How can I go and perform in front of millions when I can barely contain my powers here at a rink in Arendelle? The Games are in the North Pole; how can I hold myself together when there are flashing cameras, intrusive interviews, and eyes, eyes eyes eyes everywhere, watching for a single slip up?

How can I conceal my powers then?

My smile slowly fades; joy to hard realization . . .

* * *

My room is very sparsely furnished. Or, it is at least very clean, very simple. When my time is not consumed by practice, my time is spent in here, doing other practice; concealing my formidable powers. This floor I have paced many a long night through, tears down my face, begging my body to not betray me, to behave, to pause. Now my bed, neatly made, has a suitcase, open, on it, with a few clothes neatly folded and put in. I gather from my dresser and closet warm clothes, fashionable clothes. I will be broadcast across the entire world. Warm and fashionable are priorities.

I hear a knock at my door as I bend back from my dresser; "Elsa?" I hear an innocent, almost hesitant, voice ask.

"Anna?" I call. "Come in."

Anna comes bouncing in, wearing long sleeve green pajamas, her hair still in braids. "Lookie what came in the mail," she says, holding up a package.

I frown as I shake my head, bring my clothes to rest in the suitcase. "I don't know."

"Elsa, you realize how you're our entire country's hero right now?" Anna says, putting the box on the floor. "Okay," she says, her entire torso slouched against the box, "you have a massive fanbase. Everyone loves you, Elsa!" She looks around expectantly and then looks up at me eagerly. "Um, do you have any scissors?" Her fingers make a snip snip gesture.

I search through my craft box and hand a pair to her. I can't help but raise an eyebrow in curiosity at the box as Anna mangles it open. "Anna, what do you have in there?"

"Well, not fan letters, obviously. Nope, something better," Anna says. She reaches in and pulls out a flat stack of soft blue. She hands it to me, beaming, "T-shirts."

"T-shirts?" I say flatly.

"The Elsa fan club," Anna says, her hands stretching out as if envisioning a sign with that name. "Believe me, it is actually a thing. I founded it."

"Excuse me? Wait, what?" I say. How can anyone like me like that? How can anyone look at me and see someone to look up to?

Anna takes a seat on my bed and pulls off her pajama top. Then she puts on a shirt that fits her and says, "Elsa, please. People look at you and they see . . . perfection. People want to be like you. They love you. Your skating is beautiful; how can anyone not love you, Elsa?"

Wow . . . my acting is better than even I thought. Anna believes in my lie so wholeheartedly. I stop a moment and look out the window; it's a moon-lit night, snow all across the ground, not a footprint to be seen. It took us some hours to come back from the skate rink. All week my parents have been calmly smiling at my sister as she bounced around and became so excited to leave the country, to visit far off places and meet new people. It's been wonderful for me to give her something to almost compensate for my lack of true relationship with her. My gift for my lack of love and contact.

All this good comes from me; this is true. It is me, and it isn't me. I'm not perfect; I am out of control, pulling out my hair and breaking down. I am a storm swirling and breaking down everything in my path, crushing it. How can anyone look at that and see perfection? How?

"Hey? Elsa?" Anna asks hesitantly, her voice wavering.

I turn back from the window, smile a little. "They're beautiful, Anna." I smile harder and pull the T-shirt she tossed me over my pajama tank.

Anna nods and says, falling back on my bed and sighing at the ceiling, "Aren't you excited, Elsa? We get to go to the North Pole! Imagine the people there! Imagine the accommodations, the facilities, the gowns we get to wear!"

I decide to waste a simple moment of my time and lie next to my sister, looking up at the ceiling as well. I can't see anything but a ceiling fan and snowflakes etched into the whiteness; but my sister sees a beautiful dream. I try to see it too.

"And the pressure," I say cheerlessly.

Anna turns her head and pokes my arm.

"Don't be such a Debbie-Downer!" she says.

"Okay!" I laugh. I look back up at the ceiling. "The snow will be beautiful. And I can meet all the other athletes."

"And crush them!" Anna says, pounding her hand with her fist.

I laugh. "And we can see all the views from the hotel." I can imagine the snow across the mountains and the terrain. Terrible, but beautiful.

"And the Northern Lights," Anna says.

I can see the beautiful lights in my eyes. They flicker and emerge amongst the snowflakes.

"And the ice!"

"Mom says there's going to be someone there to meet us!" Anna says, her eyes lighting up. My sister longs to meet new people; another contrast to separate us.

"That should be fine. Oh, oh—!"

"Hot chocolate!" Anna and I shriek at the same time. Then we stare at each other, and then we break down into a fit of giggles. Oh, our love for chocolate is a bond we share. I giggle into my gloved hand, and I pretend for that single moment that my hand isn't gloved, doesn't need to be hidden away from my sister. For a moment, cautiously, I let my guard slip and allow myself to giggle with my sister. Tonight's session of calming my powers and finishing my packing for our five AM flight is pushed away. Not entirely forgotten, but pushed away. I, for a moment, let it go.

***Shamelessly drops movie references and fourth wall breaks* So, um, what do y'all think? Romance shall come up, including a crossover with another character with ice powers. *coughJackFrostcough***

**Thanks for reading! God bless you!**


	2. Olaf? That's Right, Olaf!

_**Soli Deo gloria**_

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Frozen. Thanks for the reviews!  
**

**~ Elsa's point of view ~**

The air is cold around me, and Anna shivers and chatters her teeth and clutches her dark pink jacket closer to her. I, however, am trembling for other reason. All around us are so many people, so many faces. The airport is crowded for so early in the morning. Our flight at five was simple enough to get on and face. Anna crooned about the sights outside the window and then fell asleep like an exhausted child against the plane seat. I watched out the window and saw the bright white clouds heading towards Arendelle. They too contain snow. But everyone welcomes their sprinkling, their bestowing of gifts. My hands in front of me are wearing leather gloves. I withhold and the clouds are openly generous.

What if this curse wasn't a curse, but a gift? Wouldn't that be wonderful? To bestow on others wondrous creations of my own hands, to create and spread crystalline designs? I could make the world beautiful, if only I knew how to control. If only my hands wouldn't get out of control and spread, like hot lasers scoring those around me. I am a weapon, a gun with endless bullets. I could be ruthless, so dangerous, if I wanted to. But I press harder and harder to control the gunfire. The trigger cannot be pulled, or others will be hurt.

I grip my fingers into fists and sit up straight, calm, cool, collected. All I am to be.

Anna snores the entire time, her arms at weird angles. I settle her blanket more about her shoulders and stare out the window. Ahead of me my mother and father are talking in quiet tones. This is the first moment of rest the two of them have gotten in the past week. From last-minute practices to coordinating on the phone with our family friend about what time to meet us at North Pole International Airport to welcoming in many family friends coming to offer me congratulations, it's been tough on them. The many family friends inquired into my skills, how I came about training, and I sat and smiled and hid my hands from sight. I had declined when someone had offered to throw me a throwing-away party. My natural instinct to any social integration is a polite no-thanks. I can only imagine how many limited rooms I could find to hide myself in to control the need to feel ice slide out of my hands like water pouring from a faucet.

That seems so long ago now. Only just this morning, though, were we on the plane. I check my watch and realize how out of sync my time is. I look around for a clock as Anna waits impatiently next to me. Our parents went to go find our bags, and our surprise family friend is supposed to be here to pick us up.

"Who do you supposed it is?" Anna wonders, craning her neck, yet staying rooted to her spot.

I stand tall and wait as patiently as I can, my hands clasped together. I look around, though, just as curious as Anna is. "I don't know. I haven't heard of many of our parents' friends living at the North Pole."

"Someone likes ice and chilly winter," Anna says, shivering again. My heart skips a beat—_someone likes ice._ I know that Anna knows not of my ice powers, but the mere mention of ice from her sends me into a pale, shocked state, no matter how lighthearted and ignorantly she says it.

Anna bites her lips and bounces on her feet. Then she grabs my arm and says, using me as a support, "Wait, can you read that sign?"

I look ahead and see a white sign across the room crowded with so many people. I barely make it out, seeing as my eyes flitter back and forth to the faces of those passing by, worried by their existence. But I focus enough to see five rings on the sign: the green for Arendelle, the red for the North Pole, the gold for Weselton, the dark grey for the Southern Isles, and the brown for Burgess. It's an official sign; I don't know who wields it, whether it be someone looking for me in particular or a friend of a competitor of mine, but Anna drags me after it anyway, saying, "Come on, Elsa!"

"Wait, Anna!" I say, too startled to do anything but let her drag me. My fists clench as she holds my arm tighter and I close my eyes, focusing all my energy on calming myself, on keeping my hands cool and collected. Hot and heated, they shoot ice. So I don't see who we run into as Anna stops abruptly and pulls me down with her as dead weight. I, however, hold my own, and Anna falls in a little heap, all limbs.

"Hey, watch where you're—oh, hi," Anna says, looking quickly at who we've run into.

I put my eyes up, ready with a quick apology, but it falls from my lips as I take in the stranger before me. It's a teenage boy, perhaps a year or two younger than me. His hair is unkept and his eyes an intense blue. He wears dark brown pants and a blue sweatshirt. Across his shoulders is a rough walking stick shaped like a cane. But I stare at his hair; long and white, spiky. One of my hands escapes my hold for a mere second and touches the top of my bun before I remember, wince, and bring my hand back down.

"Wow, that was really bad. And I was the one running. And dragging my sister. So I'm, you know, the one who should be sorry," Anna says, scrambling to her feet. She holds out her hand. "I'm really sorry about that."

"Just watch where you're going next time, okay?" the boy says, shaking Anna's hand politely. His lips quirk as he catches my eye. Then my hair. "One of us needs to change our hair color, or it's going to be a disaster," he says.

"How so?" I ask, finding that he is going for humor rather than ridicule. I clear my throat, ready to meet this match. "That will have to be you, then. Because I am not."

"I'm not. Have you seen this hair? It's natural." He pulls a tuft.

"Wow, really? So is Elsa's!" Anna says.

"So's that?" Jack says, pointing to a white streak down Anna's braid. It stands out against the dark orange of her hair.

"Um . . . yeah. I was kinda born with it. Looks cool, right?" Anna runs her hands down her braid in a loop, and smiles. "We're Anna and Elsa Kingman. My sister,"—here she splays her hands out to present me, making me shake my head—oh, Anna—"Elsa, is representing Arendelle in the ice-skating events."

"Jack Frost, representing Burgess for the ice-skating events," Jack says, smoothly, making my stomach drop. "You're competition. I hope that doesn't affect our relationship."

Anna looks concerned. "It would, actually, I would think," she says, turning to me. "'Cause then you and him would be traitors to your own countries. And believe me, Elsa isn't a traitor."

"Hey, I'm not out to get you or anything. Sure, I want to beat you badly, smash you into the ice at the events, but outside the rink I'm actually a really friendly guy," Jack says. He wears a smile of a smirk on his face. His fingers play against the air against his staff. He seems so at ease. It amazes me how ordinary people can act so . . . natural. I can't afford to be so off-hand, so casual.

I'm not ready to be making friends when I am not in control of the situation around me in a big airport with my parents getting our bags and someone potentially waiting for us. I need to get away from this boy who wants companionship, something I can't afford anyone, and see if it is indeed someone looking for a small competitor from Arendelle on the other side of the airport. "It was nice meeting you, Jack, but Anna and I have to go," I say coolly, pulling Anna along with my gloved hand.

"See you at the Games!" Anna says as she stumbles after me. I don't turn back to see Jack Frost's response: I keep my focus ahead, not even on the people on either of my sides or to watch the snow lightly falling, like powdered sugar, beyond the large white windows.

The sign grows closer and closer, and then a person moves and I see the bearer. Immediately my heart fills with warmth at seeing a short man with a little oddly colored nose, soft white clothes, and three little hairs atop his otherwise bald head. "Olaf!" I say, running faster.

"Wait, what?" Anna says. Her legs leap to catch up to my excited ones. I cannot slow down. "Wait, who's Olaf?"

"Our friend, from when we were little! I was about eight and you were about five when he came to visit us last," I say, this last being in his hearing range as I pull us to a stop.

"Yes! You remember me! And the two of you have grown up oh-so-nicely in the past thirteen years!" Olaf says, waving his arms in excitement. He then holds out the sign for me to examine. "Look," he says, pointing, "I wrote 'Elsa' right there, and then 'Anna' and 'oh, and your parents.' Do ya like it?" he says.

"It looks wonderful, Olaf," I say.

"Well, I was going for thoughtful, and I met the mark!" Olaf says, punching the air. Then he looks around, craning his neck, "So, where're your parents? Agnes and Berit?"

"They're actually collecting our luggage," I say. I turn to Anna and say, "Olaf, you of course remember Anna."

"How could I not remember you!" Olaf says. "We built a huge snowman and we named him Marshmallow. Don't you remember, Anna?" Olaf elbows her with a giggle.

Anna looks thoughtful and then the memory dawns on her. "Wait, yes, Olaf!" she says. She smiles and Olaf says, "Yay! You do remember! Now, I'm going to hug you. I love giving warm hugs! They're like . . . well, warm hugs!" He hugs Anna and I find myself blissfully happy for a moment. Olaf was a best friend and an uncle to me. He'd always go play with me when I tugged his hand and dragged him out into the snow. He was always thoughtful and playful, making funny voices and making me and Anna laugh so. Happier days we had when Olaf stayed with us.

"What are you doing up in the North Pole?" Anna asks, once Olaf goes back to holding his sign up to catch the eye of our parents.

"Well, I live here now. I work with farmers and their animals. I love feeding carrots to the little guys; they totally love them. It's adorable!" Olaf says, then he frowns. "Then again there's not much farmland around here. It's ice, after all. But they breed animals, and they go ice-fishing, and we sell a lot of ice!"

"To whom?" Anna wonders.

"Lots of sandy shores and such." Then Olaf sighs. "Ah, to be on sandy shores, and _beaches_, and _islands_, with _volcanoes_ and beating suns and little umbrella drinks."

"If you love them so much, why don't you move there?" Anna asks.

Olaf snorts a little, then whispers, "I have allergies." His voice lifts, all cheerful, so warm and inviting and friendly I forget all my troubles. "The cold air does wonders around here. I'll have to see about lobbying for a vacation somewhere. Maybe the Southern Isles. I hear it's nice this time of year." He points to the dark gray ring on his sign. "I saw the competitor against you in your ice-events from that place. He looks too big and muscly for the ice. He'll probably break it or something."

I frown, the reminder of the looming competition and my skating coming back to mind. "What did he look like? And his name?"

"He had sideburns and freckles and really dreamy eyes. Like, wow, your eyes are really pretty, how'd you manage to get such beautiful eyes? Anyway, I didn't catch his name." Olaf pats my hand, smiles. "You'll totally annihilate him, Elsa."

I smile a little. He sounds so innocent and happy when he says such a horrible word. Though, I glance at my gloves and hope that the chances of actually killing Jack Frost and other competitors are low. I would never be able to live with myself if I actually came to the point of losing my power so much that I actually killed someone.

"So where are your parents?" Olaf says. He looks behind me and gasps in excitement. "Oh, there they are!"

I turn to see my father's and my mother's arms loaded with luggage. "Here you go, Anna," Father says, handing her a bag. Then he sees my hands outstretched and shakes his head. My eyes fall and then he says quickly, "You're the reason we're here. We'll try to make life easy for you; save your strength for your performances."

"Here, I'll totally help you," Olaf says, taking up a bag and hugging my mother with his other hand. "Agnes, it's good to see you again. Ah, Berit, looking wonderful. Did you lose weight or something? Either that or that sweater is very slimming." Olaf heaves everything on his shoulders and says, "Well, I'm ready to go. Follow me to the car!" and he turns and we follow closely behind him in single file through the crowded airport. I'm at the rear, the only one not engaged in a conversation about the lodge we're staying at. My head turns back and forth, but then I try to keep my eyes down. I breathe in deeply, my hands clasped in front of me. I have done this before; I have acted in front of crowds of screaming people. It's just a matter of not losing control when I am in front of the cameras.

We're pulled into a long, luxurious limousine. Anna catches my gloved hand and pulls me in as I stare, surprised, at the snow plow attached to the front. Then I feel her fingers holding the leather and immediately grab the wrist of the glove with my other hand as I slid into a soft seat. I smile briefly and gently grip my hand out from her hold. I smooth my new jacket and clasp my hands in front of me.

I don't know if Anna notices; she looks a little confused, but then clears her throat and takes in the limousine. It is indeed an amazing car, with soft leather seats and snowflakes all dancing across the ceiling, which opens to show sheets of sun-softened sun. The windows, also, have the option to be shaded.

"This car is beautiful," Mother says, taking a seat next to my father.

Olaf nods, eager to please. "It's the best the Council has to offer. Nothing but the best for Elsa. She does the best, so she deserves the best." Olaf turns to me, his thin fingers pressed against a button as the car starts and drives, almost so smooth you barely feel the move of the wheels. A window's shades roll down. "I watched the clip of you performing. AB-solutely amazing, Elsa," he says, waving his free hand in the air for emphasis.

Anna leans forward and claps her hands. "Wasn't she amazing?"

"Astonishing! Her triple swirl had me on the edge of my seat!"

"Her sweeps were the best. I can't believe she didn't have sheets of snow under her, like she'd just cut it off from under her!"

"She was on fire! On ice! Which is totally awesome!" Olaf says excitedly.

Anna reaches into her purse, biting her lips in realization of something, and I chuckle as she holds up a blue shirt. "You want to join the Elsa fan club?"

"Do I!" He pulls it on and they keep on jabbering. I turn away to face the window. The airport must be gone from us now, so I pull down the shade and my eyes widen and I gasp softly. The North Pole is absolutely beautiful. It shimmers with snow, with beloved ice. Arendelle has its snow, yes, but it is a summer town. This place radiates with sun against the ice, never melting. The airport drifts away and I catch the designs of snow against the buildings we pass. Of course there are the snow drifts layered with soot and dirt and trash, but snow is falling gently about it, as natural as water. Oh, to live here! To be in winter all the time! Oh, a thrill runs through my skin at the thought! For my ice powers, despite them, don't bother me if I pretend for a moment that they can't harm others. If I was all alone, on a beautiful terrain here, a mountain to myself, oh, how I would enjoy myself! Alone, to create with my ice powers, to feel no fear, no guilt, no precaution to protect anyone, to have utter solitude with my ice; I didn't realize how deeply that resounds in me. How I ache at the mere thought.

We drive through the barren, beautiful country, far, far away from the city, far from those people, to a beautiful sight. I open the window, despite the chills surrounding us, and lean out. A laugh catches my throat. It's a long lodge set in the rocky, snow-encased mountain. It's dark and wooden, absolutely huge, like a wooden space ship crashed into the mountain and decided to stay there. Lights beam from it and I can see in the bright sun of the afternoon a ski lift, going a few hundred feet from a mountain to the bottom of the lodge. I see tiny people, figures all wrapped in warm shells, moving about the mountain, falling and swerving and going down, down, down. I see a flat, pale frozen sheet of ice on a pond. I see beauty everywhere. It's a combination of what Anna and I love best: people and ice. The people I shall somehow calmly find a way to manage. But I know Anna is going to fall in love with this beautiful place.

The ride has been long; a couple of hours. I turn back to see my collected family. Father is going over a clipboard, all covered with drawings of circles and exes on a rectangle that has its edges softened so they're almost circular. My heart leaps and falls at the same time. My routine. I am eager to play and spin against the ice, and I'm scared of doing it in front of people.

My mother sits back, reading a book, spectacles hiked on her nose. I have been homeschooled along with Anna, and she was our teacher. I've worked hard to please her. Father has been harder, but somehow I feel more relieved when she sees some hard work of mine and gives her pleased smile and her words of encouragement. The greatest teacher she is and was; Anna had graduated in June. We both live at home, mostly because college is too soon off for Anna, and I have no future in anything but jobs at home. I can rule a kingdom—from my bedroom.

I turn to Olaf and Anna. Anna has wrapped herself in multiple layers, revealing a half-open, dark-green knapsack at our booted feet. She stares ahead, her eyes peeking above a scarf that half-covers her freckle-covered nose. She is wrapped like a butterfly in a cocoon, her arms so round and layered that it takes physical exertion for her to wipe at her nose. Olaf next to her yawns softly and clasps his hands together, his long arms extended, and watches the floor as well. We're all calm and quiet as I lean out again and feel the harsh, living air in my lungs as we go up the long driveway, passing other cars. I notice on our door is the big green ring for Arendelle. Other cars have the grey ring, or the gold, or another. I grin. We're all marked, all representing. I find myself keeping an eye on the brown one. I see a grinning white-haired face showing through a window. He's in front of us, and he lowers his window and sticks his head out. "Hey, Elsa!" Jack calls.

I stiffen and slip back into the car. I hadn't meant for him to notice me.

"Elsa! Hey! You were just there! Come back!" I gulp and fight the urge as I peek my head back out, causing the white tendrils of my loose hair to dance in the wind. We meet eyes; his blue on my blue. I try to look past him, not pay attention to him at all.

"Why aren't you wearing a hat or something?" Jack has to yell as we curve around the road. "It's freezing outside."

I shrug, not feeling like concocting an explanation. I smile a little, though. "I'm fine. The cold never bothered me anyway."

He grins a little, in a wistful sort of way. His hair dances in the wind as well. "Me either, Elsa."

I smile and he says, looking back into the car (perhaps someone is talking to him) and then back to me, "See you at the Lodge, Elsa!" and he ducks back in.

I settle back in my seat and with one finger press the switch to close the window. I am silent as I think of the people in the Lodge; so many staff, family members of the other athletes, the other athletes, cameramen, crews, reporters, cameras, so many, many many many people. I clutch my hands and remain silent, sitting quietly in the cold air of our car, as we pull up to the entrance to the Lodge.

Someone opens my door, a porter with a black cap and gold buttons. He offers his hand, and I decline, getting out myself. I turn to see him almost dragging baggy Anna out before I look around, breathe in the crisp air, and see the snow closer. The mountains across from me are gorgeous. Not a cloud is in the sky; the snow left us at the airport. Footprints dot the snow as people trek up and back and forth: All my audience. They've come to watch me skate; I breathe deeply and find something deep inside of me: hope. Excitement. I smile and feel pink blush on my pale cheeks.

My parents stand before me and Anna as the porter takes our baggage and Olaf says, consulting a map, "This is our place! Now, I'll go check us in, and we'll get settled, and then we'll hit the slopes!"

I'm all for this—to get out into this snow is a sudden dream I didn't know I wanted fulfilled until now—but I catch my father's eyes. I immediately know that I cannot go out; not when there is practice to be done.

Mother catches his eye and frowns: "Let Elsa go on the slopes with Anna. Just for a little way."

"Darling," Father says, and his eyes swipe to glance at my clasped hands.

"She knows," Mother says calmly.

"Wait, knows what?" Olaf wonders.

"To be careful," my mother says. Her double meaning is clear.

I nod. "I will be very careful."

"It's not like we're going rock climbing or something. We'll be fine!" Anna says, swiping a coat-clad hand. I smile. However she tries to be mature, she comes across as endearing.

"We'll be fine," I say.

Anna beams and grabs my arm and we rush through checking in. Olaf chuckles at our antics as I allow Anna to drag me around the foyer. The place is covered in Winter Olympic memorabilia, pictures, and plaques. To one side is the beautiful dining room overlooking the slopes. Then other halls and doors leading to elevators, closets, bedrooms, and facilities leading to other rooms for the Games. Cameras are set up everywhere, and Anna photobombs a reporter by jumping up and down and peeling back her coats and showing her T-shirt. I cover my eyes with my hands with a chuckle and get pulled around to see the beautiful stone-built fireplace. Anna warms her hands and says, looking up at me, "Isn't this place absolutely beautiful, Elsa?"

I nod. "Indeed." I look hesitantly at the flames. Maybe if I put my hands too close to the fire, I can burn off my ice powers. That is such a silly thought, though. Still. I stay away from the fire.

Olaf comes skipping over waving keycards. We snatch them and the five of us head up with our luggage. The elevator moves up and Anna fidgets, bites her lips, and bounces up and down. Luckily no one else is in the elevator. She finds the porter perfect, though, to talk his head off. By the time we're off the elevator, I am left in awe of my sister. She loves people so, and can easily express it. I love people so, and I can't.

We have two bedrooms. Our luggage is toted into ours and Father points at his watch. "At three, back in for practice, Elsa."

I nod and Anna peels off layer after layer, wrestling and falling against her made bed, as I gasp and hurry to the window. I have a perfect view of the beautiful blue skies and long wires and baskets carrying people to and fro.

Anna then realizes her mistake of undressing and starts to put things back on. Finished, she jumps up and says, "Do you know how to ski, Elsa?"

"No, I don't," I say.

"Well, then we're both about to find out how." Anna smiles and says, "Maybe later, if we have time, we can build a snowman!"

I smile a little weakly as I open our door and slip the keycard in my pocket. "We'll see, Anna."

Unfortunately, I realize, as I watch my sister bounce down the carpeted halls back to the elevator, Anna takes things to heart, and thinks with hope of all things: to her, my answer is as good as a 'yes.'

**Thanks for reading! God bless you!**


	3. Introducing the Cutest Hottie EVER

_**Soli Deo gloria**_

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Frozen.**

**~ Anna's point of view ~**

The amount of clothes you have to wear to keep the cold out is _a lot_. Before we came here Mom and I went shopping and we bought A LOT. Our arms got so tired from carrying the bags home. It took me forever to model them for Elsa, though she was really, really busy, and couldn't see them. She was ordering stuff from online and locking me out of her room. My hand hurt 'cause I kept knocking and knocking and I bet it got really irritating even though I tried hard to not be. But then . . . she finally snapped and I knew she didn't have time for me to model clothes. But, at least now she can see them. I'm wearing about ten billion layers and walking like a fat snowman as we get out of the Lodge. I grin when I see the tall mountain in front of us and clap my hands. We've never gone skiing, and I'm totally down for it.

As for Elsa, welllllllll, she doesn't look like she's looking forward to it. I don't know why. She's done so much to get to this point, to the Olympics, and she's fidgeting and pulling at her gloves, like she wants to go inside instead.

Her feet get covered in thick snow as we trudge through. My teeth chatter, but my feet are nice and protected. Size six boots up to my knee. Apparently we bought out an entire winter section at Oaken's. I'm not surprised. It was cheap, too, because of supply and demand. These boots are my favorite; I feel like I can walk on the snow. But no. I just keep sinking. I almost fall over and die but I grab Elsa's arm, nearly pulling her down with me, to support me.

"Oof!" I say. Elsa quickly pulls me up and I say, "Thanks."

She gives me a tight smile and hugs herself. Oh. Yeah. She doesn't like touching. At all. I feel a frown on my face as my enthusiasm for this sport we are about to try for the first time in our lives just drains out of me. How can I be excited when Elsa doesn't really want to come along?

"This is gonna be fun. Dad never took us skiing," I say, yanking my heavy boots alongside Elsa. The sun shines on the snow, which is covered in boot prints and lots and lots of prints from snowshoes. Snowshoes are actually probably better for this kind of weather.

Elsa nods. She keeps her eyes ahead, her hands clasped in front of her. She looks so beautiful, my sister, and it's almost like she is trying to purposely ignore me. I wish she would tell me why.

"I'm not afraid of heights," I say, looking up at the ski lifts. Their shadows cover our faces. They're so high! The airplane was a great experience; I felt like a bird. I love speed, and the adrenaline. I look at Elsa's face; it's blank. "You're not afraid of heights, are you?"

"Of course not. Why would I be?" Elsa says, hurrying her pace. My smile slides away as she takes us to the top, where there is a booth lined with beautiful pairs of skis with their pairs of poles.

Elsa approaches them as my eyes pass over a snowmobile buzzing through the snow down the hill.

"Hey, would have been a better way of transportation. Maybe I wouldn't be frozen right now," I say, hurrying to her side.

"Two pairs of skis," Elsa says.

"And you both wants poles?" A man with a nice, warm face says. A woman behind him picks out the skis for our heights and weights. Elsa and I are similar, in that way. We can interchange, despite her being older than me. I've caught up with her!

"Yes, please, thank you," Elsa says. She pays for the rent with some money Olaf got exchanged for us and hands me my pair of skis. I gasp and flop on the cold, powdery ground and biting my lip, I strap my feet into them. They're a beautiful pink. Then I use my poles to bring me up. I almost start slipping down the hill, gasping.

"These place is slippery, just FYI," I say, then I plant my poles firmly into the ground. When I show authority, apparently, I can get my way. I turn to Elsa, who quietly squats and straps in her feet. Her eyes flash forward to the mountain we're about to go down. Her gloved fingers shake.

"Let's go!" I say.

"Calm down, Anna," Elsa says, but she smiles as she stands up and carefully pulls herself forward using her poles. I follow her, stumbling a little as my feet slide on the smooth snow. Years and years of continuous snowfall and people packing it down leaves it like a thick layer of ice under powdered sugar. I bend my butt forward and backward and shake my hips back in forth, like a strange mating dance, just to keep my balance as Elsa and I approach the lift. Gondolas come up, swerve, and go smoothly down, carrying laughing people from either way. I watch people slide down below me, sometimes falling, sometimes almost tripping, but persisting.

I feel it in my stomach, all dread and trepidation, and a delicious excitement. Afters years of being stuck at home or at one of the seven places I've ever been to in my life, _I AM GOING SKIING AT THE LODGE FOR MY SISTER'S OLYMPICS_. I cannot possibly overemphasize how _excited_ I am.

"I feel really scared. And excited. Like I just want to _dive_ in, you know," I say, thrusting my hands and poles forward—Elsa looks concerned that I'll start flying down the hill—"but also like I want to strap myself to a tree like a hippie and pee my pants and not go down at all."

Elsa smiles a little. "Starting is probably the best thing to do. It's half the battle." Her eyes catch a gondola and I try as I might to calm down but I _just_ keep trying to bounce up and down despite the deterrents on my feet. So I end up looking like a strange little penguin as Elsa, her eyes alight with energy and excitement, says, "Ready?"

"I was born ready," I say, determined.

"Okay," Elsa says. She turns around, so she faces the Lodge, and she says, "Do what I do."

I, not understanding, nevertheless obey my older sister. I feel scared, like something is behind my shoulder that I should be watching out for, and steel myself for something that I can't name. My hands tighten on my poles and I bite my lip. "Now what?" I ask.

Elsa watches over her shoulder, her lips pulled together determinedly. "I'll watch for the gondola. Trust me; when I give you the signal, sit down."

The only reason I have to trust my sister is the simple fact of her being my older sister. So I brace myself for impact and feel dread drip down my neck. "Do you have a time-frame for our gondola, Elsa, or are you just going to keep me in the dark? 'Cause that'll work, too."

"Now!" Elsa says, her voice sharp. I watch her movements and copy rather than force myself to think of how to fold my body down onto the gondola. Then suddenly we're rising tons of feet from the ground, leaving cold air and wind blowing against our freezing legs. My hands somehow tighten around the poles and I whoop, raising my arms into the frosty air. I feel alive, alive, alive!

Elsa smiles at my proclamation and looks out on the slopes. "This is beautiful," she says quietly.

"I know, right?" I say, bringing my arms down to my side. I point out excitedly, my gloved finger like a toy pistol, accusatory, at the car marked with tiny colors that brought us here. "It's Olaf's car. And there's Olaf!" He's waiting at the car rental place near the Lodge, almost blending into the snow, he's so white. He could use some color, like a nice crimson or chartreuse. Not yellow, though. Oh, ew!

Elsa smiles again. "You can see so many things from up here," she says.

I point ahead, towards the Lodge. Past it, behind it, are a bunch of buildings, especially one I know definitely from the pamphlets and brochures and the website, to be the stadium. "That place has the ice rink, for the performances," I say.

"Yes," Elsa says, "all indoor events are going to be in there."

"And then that must mean that the gym is right there," I say, pointing to just next to it. Then I catch sight of a little disk of frozen blue water to my far left, near a bunch of pine trees that look out-of-place. "Unless you're going old-school and practicing over there."

"Well now, I highly doubt that. It's not regulated," Elsa says.

"And there's the ever-so-slight chance you could fall through and die a horrible, chilly death." I shiver at the thought and my feet wave in the air. I'm at the edge of my seat, which is both terrifying and exactly what I should be doing. The slope is coming closer and closer and we have to get ready to launch ourselves.

"We're almost there," Elsa says.

"You're not scared, are you?" I ask. ". . . I . . . I'm not asking because I THINK you're scared or that I expect you to go down the mountain screaming and falling over your own feet, it's just . . . well, I dunno! Curiosity." There has GOT to be a reason why Elsa is so reluctant to join me here on the slopes. For years I've tried to get her to come out of her shell, but every time I reach out to try to figure out why my sister acts like this, she curls up tighter, farther and farther away from my reach. This trip is pretty much a perfect opportunity to get to know my sister better. I know we won't have much time as just the two of us, what, with Dad driving her to practice and then her actual performances and interviews and special banquets and award ceremonies (my sister is going to place. Believe me. I can feel it in my BONES), so whatever time I DO get, I'm going to see if I can wheedle something out of my cool, collected sister.

Elsa shakes her head. "I'm not scared at all. You?"

"Me? Ah, nah," I say, waving my hand in disconcern. "I'd be scared if we were jumping off a two hundred foot cliff with nothing but snow to pillow our fall! But this? Nope, I'm totally cool," I say, folding my arms.

"Good, because we're launching."

"Wait, what?" I say, startled, sitting up as Elsa jumps off the gondola, landing safely on her bend legs. Then I remember my poles and I can't even think but copy my older sister; I step off and nearly pull myself down into the snow, 'cause one of my feet gets planted into the snow, anchoring me down! But then I realize, oh yeah, hey, I have another foot! And I drag myself forward and I feel myself speeding down. I look ahead, gasping with laughter, to see Elsa fiercely driving herself down. I do what she does because she is totally under-control; bend my legs, bend my head and back down. I bite my lip and feel so giddy. Pine trees flash away like dark green shadows on my left and people laughing and screaming and whooshing past me are on my left. Elsa is in my right upper hand corner, and I find myself wanting to BEAT HER TO THE FINISH LINE.

I've always been a little competitive, you know, ever since I was young, but since Elsa just shrunk away from me, I've never had people to really play against. Ice-skating? Yeah, I can barely do it. But since I haven't fallen on my face and am actually going at a good speed, I find inside myself, besides the screaming little girl and the adrenaline junkie, a competitor, and I rush myself forward, ignoring how my arms start to hurt. A lot.

"Elsa!"

We're both wearing goggles from the stand, too, so that the snow that we're making fly all around us doesn't go and blind us. I shriek when a bunch of the white stuff covers my eyes. My thoughts are all a rush as I feel myself fall; maybe a session with an instructor would've been a good idea. The actual idea of such a wise thing never popped into my head until just now; too late. I rushed head-first into something, as my usual. Oh well. I suffer my consequences by, you know, falling on my face.

SNOW IS SUPER DUPER FREEZING. I push myself up with my poles and shove the snow out of my goggles. "Wow, this stuff is thick," I say. Then I cough. Then I realize something very important. This snow is super duper REALLY REALLY COLD. I scramble to my feet, slipping on the ice I'm making, saying quickly, "COLD, COLD, COLD, COLD!"

"Anna!" I see Elsa facing me, stopped halfway down the mountain. Her mouth is pulled into a scared way. Wait, am I scaring her? How?

"Don't worry! I just lost my footing. I've got the habit of doing that. I'm totally fine! Go on without me!" I get to my feet and shove off the last of the powdery stuff from my clothes. I laugh a little to myself. "Well, I need to work on keeping on my feet." It's not like there's always going to be someone to catch me. I find that, hey, the skis stayed on my feet for once! and I resume my position, arranging my legs just so. "'Kay, let's see if I can get this," I say to myself. I reach forward and realize that I've got this, I have _totally_ got this—

I fall on my butt.

_"Mannnnnn."_

Several unfortunately ungraceful attempts later, I've got myself going at a nice speed. I see Elsa racing, tracing curves into the mountain. Man, but Elsa can keep her balance. She could walk on a wire with her hands clasped in front of her, her eyes set ahead and her back straight. Prim and proper. As always, with my sister.

Well, I can catch up with her. Of course I can. And I do, with much fumbling and making a fool of myself in the process. I separate many a crowd when I catch speed and forget how to brake. Wait, are there even brakes? 'Cause I can't find any.

"Elsa!" I yell to gain her attention. Everyone else on the slopes is staring at me with astonishment (at least I've made my splash into society), but Elsa has to turn just to catch me passing by her. I watch her over my shoulder, not even trying at this point to keep myself from falling and burying, practically drowning myself, in snow. I'm bound to fall and I don't care. I'm good in that way. I've gotten used to being the clumsy one.

"Anna, slow down!" Elsa says. Ah, she's going faster, trying to catch up with me!

"Faster, Elsa!" I say, and because I can't see what's right in front of my nose, I face a huge built-up snow drift. Poof! It is really a soft noise I make, but it hurts a lot. I'm encased in ice, my hands stuck in it. I . . . I can't breathe.

"Anna!" Oh, well, at least I haven't lost my hearing. I feel someone digging me out. Oh, that's good! 'Cause this is really icy. And freezing. I can feel my toes, though, all tingly and full of needles. At least not numb or frost-bitten. Yet. Yet being the keyword here.

"Ow, careful, Elsa, you're using fingernails," I say. Dang, her fingers are strong! She pulls me out and I feel fingerprints pressed into my clothes. Ow! "Hey, easy there! You don't understand the strength you've got!"

Elsa comes racing to my side, her eyes bright and big. So I realize something's wrong when she holds my arms and other hands fall from my arms. "Anna, are you all right? Are you hurt? Your head? Your heart?"

"No, wait, what? I'm fine. I just face-planted ice, that's all," I say, and then I look at my rescuer. And my mouth opens in a stupid unladylike way and my eyes widen and I can't stop staring at this beautiful, sharp angel. The angel's a man whose sideburns could kill. His nose is long and dang those are freckles on his cheekbones; his eyes? Absolutely dreamy. Even his red eyebrows are perfect. How is that physically perfect? He's stepped right out of a perfect dream.

"I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" HIS VOICE IS PERFECT.

"Um, sorry? What? Hurt me?" I _snort_. I seriously snort. I intend to brush it off. "No, no, I'm fine. Thanks, actually, for bringing me back to the air. I like breathing it."

"Anna." Elsa's voice is clear and commanding. Her eyes demand an answer. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, yeah. I just wasn't watching where I was going. So it was nice for you," I point to the hot guy who looks so worried and concerned (butterflies are migrating and crowding and pushing around in my stomach), "to come and save me. Thank you."

He smiles so sweetly. "It was no problem. I'm just glad you're all right." He bows slightly, offers his hand. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Hans Otsi, competing for the Southern Isles."

"Wait, what? Southern Isles? Oh, dang," I say.

Elsa stands next to me, my arm linked with hers. "I thank you for your service, Mr. Otsi. My sister is obliged as well." Then she moves to go back to the Lodge.

"Wait, wait," I say, putting all my weight into my arm. Okay, I'd like to know this person who saved my life and actually initiated a conversation with me—"Hold on. We haven't introduced ourselves." I point to myself and Elsa looks nervous. "I am Anna Kingman, of Arendelle, and this"—I back away a bit and present Elsa—"is Arendelle's best ice skater, representing our country on the rink. My sister, Elsa."

"Oh, well, Miss Kingman," Hans says, shaking Elsa's stiff hand, "it's a pleasure to meet one of my competitors."

"Wait, what? Ohhhhh, you're competing against my sister! Oh, dang, you're competing against my sister," I say, putting my hand to my mouth. Eek. I just keep running into people and end up finding out that they're my sister's competition. Wow, guess that doesn't happen to a lot of people.

"Which is an honor in and of itself," Hans says, smiling so gently it touches my heart deep, deep inside me. I can barely breathe. He bows slightly again. "Elsa, are you all right?" he says suddenly, sounding very concerned.

I realize Elsa's trembling. "Wait, Elsa, are you okay?" I say, looking into her face. She looks so much paler than usual. Her hand on my arm hurts from squeezing. My upper shoulder is actually turning numb. I put my hand on her hand and say, "Elsa!"

She jerks away from me. "Excuse me. Pardon," she says, and she clutches her coat tight as she runs across the snow, her hair falling from its position on her head into waves on her shoulders, pins falling around her. I watch, shocked, and realize I've once again done something wrong. I've driven my sister away. Again. Not like that's not a common problem with Elsa.

"Was it something I said?" Hans says.

Wait, he says that to me! I have to respond!

"Don't worry about it," I say as I worry about it. I turn myself to him and sigh deeply. Two deep breaths; I have to leave Elsa alone. If she wanted to talk to me or want me to come with her or, or whatever, she would have called for me, dragged me along with her. She wouldn't leave me here as she ran away. No. One more deep breath. Then I say, looking up at the dreamiest eyes this side of the world, "My sister has a habit of that. It's not personal. She just doesn't do well with people. Not the most social person alive, but,"—sigh—"as is my sister." My hands squeeze my arms and I feel myself growing warm and breathless inside. His eyes are digging into my very soul and they look so kind. Wow. I can't even breathe for a few seconds. I just like looking at him.

"I'm sorry if I offended her or anything. Maybe she is going to go practice," Hans says.

"Yeah," I say, after a long moment when I realize I wasn't talking at all.

Hans smiles and then he turns away from me (no, wait, turn back to me!) and kneels as a dog comes running up. It's a brown dog with a black stripe of fur striped with white. His leash trails behind him as he licks Hans's offered hand and pants heavily.

"Sitron! Thank goodness! I was worried!" Hans says, petting him.

"Wait, this is your dog?" I say, coming to his side.

Hans looks up at me, his hands deeply covered in doggy fur. "Yes. I had him on his leash and he ran away from me. Thank goodness he's come back."

"And not brought a Lodge authority to yell at you," I say, kneeling beside him. I pet him too. Wow, but this is a sweet dog! I didn't know I liked dogs until this dog came around and licked my face. We never had a dog. Or any animals, really. My childhood was kind of a sad one. I laugh when he licks my face again, wearing the sweetest smile. "Why didn't you leave him at home, though? You're here to compete in the Winter Olympics. I'm sure someone was more than willing to board your dog for you while you come here to represent your country."

"Yeahhhh, not so much," Hans says, shaking his head. Oh, he has freckles on his nose! Oh! Oh! Oh! "There are more than enough people at home to take care of him while I'm away. I've got twelve older brothers—"

"Wait, TWELVE OLDER BROTHERS?!" I say, astonished. "What, and they didn't want to take care of their successful younger brother's dog?"

"They don't like associating with me. Three of them pretended that I was invisible, literally, for two years," Hans says. "They like holding grudges." Oh, he sounds really sad. He must've really looked up to his older brothers. Like I do with Elsa.

"That might actually be the saddest thing I've ever heard," I say.

Hans chuckles. "It's not that bad. They were kidding. I think. Besides, I don't think you've got a lot of sad things to compare it to if brotherly teasing is the saddest thing you've ever heard."

"Oh, yeah. Sure. My life is a pretty fairyland with rainbows and unicorns and butterflies," I say, folding my arms and sighing.

Hans seems to notice that I'm not in the mood to compare our lives side by side. He touches my shoulder (my heart rate skyrockets. I should be dying from a burst organ) and says, "Let's calm down a bit. And get you warmed up. You face-planted a wall of ice. You must be freezing."

I stand up, uncertain about what we are about to do but super totally ready to do it. He stands up, takes Sitron's leash, and offers me his arm. ME! "Would you like to join me at the Lodge's cafe for a cup of cocoa?"

There is NOTHING I have better to do. I'm freaking out inside, wanting to scream and jump up and down from happiness, but I need to calm down and show myself as cool and confident, like my older sister. _Coy._ So I smile politely and link my arm with his. "It would be delightful."

I scream excitedly into my gritted teeth as we walk down the rest of the slope.

**Oh, Anna.**


End file.
